The Day She Came Back

by Amanda Prowse

  Sarah shook her head and spoke with a note of panic. ‘Don’t do that! Please, please, don’t do that. Talking like this, so openly and honestly, is tough, I know it is! But it’s also necessary; it takes guts, and each time we do is a step we take across that long and precarious bridge that separates us. Please, don’t go. Stay here in Oslo, just for the weekend, please. We have to keep taking these steps. We have to keep talking, and hopefully, one day, if we are very lucky, we will realise that we have come to the middle of the bridge and the place we meet is where the past gets left behind and from that point on we can go in any direction we choose! But we go together.’

  ‘Okay.’ Victoria felt seduced by the promise of a future like that. It sounded like the calm waters in which she wanted to swim, just as it had been when Prim was her guardian and she had been unaware that anything in her life was amiss. She stood and hitched her bag on to her shoulder as the next snub-nosed silver train pulled into the platform, sitting high on the tracks.

  ‘Can we get this one?’ She pointed to the open doors.

  ‘Oh, we could have got any of them.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you say?’ She rushed and jumped on board, with Sarah following suit.

  ‘I was enjoying our chat,’ Sarah levelled.

  Victoria couldn’t help but laugh at this calm admission. Sarah had Prim’s quirkiness about her, and it was one aspect of her character she knew she would like.

  The two slotted into seats side by side and Victoria realised their legs were touching, her thigh now sitting alongside that of the body in which she had grown. She found it remarkable and emotional, looking out of the window now to hide the nose itch that was usually, for her, a forerunner to tears.

  The train sped along through countryside, passing places whose names she tried to pronounce in her head: Kløfta, Lindeberg, Frogner and Lillestrøm. Every platform looked clean, graffiti- and litter-free; a bit different from the slightly tatty stations she passed when travelling into town at home, where a lick of paint and the quick strokes of a yard broom wouldn’t have gone amiss. She watched, fascinated, the Norwegians who smiled and chatted in their native tongue, a sing-song language that sounded to her ear, happy. It made her think of Daksha’s survey facts, and again she smiled, wondering what the homes might be like to which they returned and picturing the families possibly waiting for them.

  How different my life would have been if I had moved here with my mum all those years ago. I might speak like you and might, right now, be sitting at home, waiting for you to alight from this train and come back . . . come back to me . . .

  She particularly liked the little red barns that were dotted throughout the landscape, standing out among the beautiful blaze of autumn-bronzed leaves and reminding her of Monopoly hotels in both colour and design. The lights coming through the windows of the rural buildings illuminated the landscape in a honey-coloured arc. She could see from this one journey that this was a beautiful, beautiful place. Finally, the train pulled into the Nationaltheatret Stasjon and she and Sarah left the station, walking up the wide steps and emerging into the city.

  Victoria’s first impression was that there were more trees than she might have imagined in the middle of a city. Walking along the street, she took in the glorious, ornate stone buildings, the fancy spires and the lines of flag poles – each one bearing the striking red, white and blue Norwegian flag – that led the eye up to a grand park at the top of a hill. There were eye-catching sculptures; clean, cobbled streets; vast fountains; and everywhere she looked were tall, beautiful people. She had read how Norway only had eleven hours of daylight at this time of year, but she knew that any lack of light was the very last thing she would remember about this, her first visit to Oslo.

  ‘This place is so beautiful!’ She spoke her thoughts aloud.

  Sarah nodded and looked around as if seeing it through new eyes. ‘I never get sick of it.’

  ‘I bet. Bit different to Epsom.’

  ‘Just a bit. I would have followed Jens anywhere, but I’m glad it was to here. He is my reason, my anchor. He is the person in my life who listens, and I think we all need someone like that, that person to whom you can witter about everything and anything, from politics to bowel movements.’

  Victoria felt her nose wrinkle in distaste. Sarah gave a wry smile. ‘It’s true. Everyone needs a listener.’

  ‘So how did you guys meet?’

  ‘We met in London; he was a law student on placement and I was a long-haired junkie working a couple of shifts in a coffee shop. I saw him. He saw me. And that was that.’ She shrugged her shoulders, as if it were a fait accompli. ‘All we had to do then was find a way and a place to be together.’

  ‘And that place was Oslo,’ Victoria guessed.

  ‘That place was Oslo. Come on, we can walk along the waterfront. I can’t wait for you to meet him. And for him to meet you.’

  Victoria nodded and walked alongside, feeling none of the excited anticipation Sarah clearly felt. For her, the overriding sensation was still that this whole situation was strange, surreal and a little fearful. She wondered if it would ever change; she wanted so much to get to that bridge Sarah had described, the one where they met in the middle and started afresh, but with her hurt raw and her grief still all-consuming, she doubted that was going to happen any time soon.

  The air was crisp and clean and the dark sky clear. Lights from the restaurant frontages, on the masts of boats and the subdued deck lighting of the many docks, as well as those on the quayside, where people sat sipping cream-topped hot chocolate or nibbling crêpes, were reflected in the still, cold water of the fjord, giving every view an ethereal, reflective quality. It was one of the most scenic places she had ever been. She thought how much Prim would have loved it and her heart flexed at the thought that she never got to see it. This was instantly followed by a flash of anger that, had her gran been honest with her, they might have both been able to come here . . . Such a bloody waste.

  ‘I love to see people in love,’ Sarah said, nodding towards the many couples strolling hand in hand, wearing thick coats to ward off the chill. ‘I think it is one of the most hopeful sights known to man. I think as long as people love one another, then there is hope.’

  ‘Hope for what?’ Victoria asked.

  ‘For everything!’ Sarah beamed at her. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I was hanging out with someone for a while, but . . .’ She pictured Flynn sneaking along the hallway, hand in hand with Courtney. ‘He was a bit of a turd.’ She borrowed from Gerald. ‘And it all went a bit wrong. Horribly wrong, in fact.’

  ‘Well, his loss. You could have the pick, Victoria. My advice would be: stay away from turds.’ She smiled, seeming pleased to have finally, finally spoken her name without any hesitation. ‘Seriously, you could have the pick.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. Prim was always keen to remind me that the Cutter women looked like potatoes—’

  ‘Aaah, but only until they evolved into a chip!’ Sarah finished her sentence and they both laughed, spontaneously and without an edge, and it was nice, a hint maybe of how life might be if they could only reach that bridge . . . ‘I think I reached full chip at about twenty.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got that to look forward to then.’ Victoria held her eyes for a second, again a moment when they let their guards down and optimism bound them. It was almost intoxicating.

  ‘Many of my problems were of my own making, there’s no denying it. I felt caged, antsy, not just at home but in general. If ever I had to sit in a room – I wanted to run.’ Sarah kept her voice low. ‘But I remember before my life veered so wildly off track, being about your age and feeling that life was crushing me, coming at me from all sides. Mum was very controlling.’

  ‘You see, I just didn’t experience that; I don’t recognise that Prim! But then, what did I know?’ she huffed.

  Sarah sighed. ‘Maybe age mellowed her? Plus, as I suggested, I think maybe
she learned her lesson with me: that the more you hem someone in, the more likely they are to smash the lock and run. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I was being pushed out of my teenage years, where I had been quite carefree and happy, and being pulled into adulthood, which I was in no way ready to face. Everything felt like an enormous pressure. I had one foot in my childhood and another on the path to my future, and a lot of the time all I wanted to do was jump and not have a foot in either. I guess drugs were the springboard that helped me jump.’

  This resonated; it was just as Victoria felt, and again the shared experience drew them a little closer. ‘I don’t . . .’ she began, before remembering she was talking to Sarah, who she was still intent on keeping at arm’s length, wary.

  ‘You don’t what?’ Sarah urged, her smile encouraged, and her eyes crinkled at the edges in the way Prim’s used to. It was hard to see the similarity and Victoria looked away.

  ‘I don’t want to mess my life up, but it feels that every single decision is fraught with pitfalls. This guy I was seeing, well, kind of seeing . . . I was scared to be myself and then, when I was myself, he cheated – it felt rubbish.’ She pictured herself hiding in the larder and throwing up.

  Sarah laughed. ‘Welcome to the world! The secret is to just make a plan and go with it. You can always change your mind, nothing is for ever; I remember Dad telling me that once . . . Stagnation is bad for my mental health; I think it is for most people. And as for that guy, if something is right, if you are with the right person, you don’t have to second guess or worry about getting stuff wrong because it feels so right you have absolute faith and just go for it, like me and Jens!’

  There he was again, this guy who was never far from Sarah’s thoughts, apparently. Victoria hated the thought that what she was feeling was good old-fashioned jealousy.

  She nodded. ‘I don’t remember too much about Grandpa; he was quiet. Apart from him telling me stories about when he was at sea.’

  ‘Oh, he was always very proud of his naval service, rightly so. I think of him often when I look out over the water; he came to Norway.’

  ‘He did? He came to see you?’ Her heart raced at the prospect of her and Prim on any other school night sitting in the kitchen, while Grandpa was here idling along the waterfront with her dead mother.

  ‘No! No! More’s the pity.’ Sarah shook her head in lament. ‘I mean, when he was on active service, he spent a lot of time in the North Sea.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’ Her pulse settled. ‘I also remember him being fanatical about his roses, which are still beautiful, and I also remember the way he smelled – kind of woody.’

  ‘Ah, his roses . . . Yes, the woody smell, that’ll be his cigars. Mum used to go bonkers about him smoking secretly in the drawing room, but I always loved the smell. He was lovely.’ Sarah suddenly caught her breath and cried. ‘I miss him still. I miss Mum too, of course, but my daddy . . . I miss him,’ she repeated in little more than a whisper, sniffing and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. This display made Victoria think again of just how the woman might have suffered too.

  ‘Sorry,’ Sarah sniffed. ‘I keep a lot of my feelings at bay; a case of having to over the years, but seeing you . . .’ She shook her head and took a deep breath. ‘Come on, let’s get home. Jens will be wondering where we’ve got to.’ Putting her hands in her pockets, Sarah quickened her step and Victoria fell in beside her. Her heart thudded: supposing Jens didn’t like her, didn’t want her there? It was a terrifying prospect.

  Sarah reached into the small handbag slung across her body for her door key.

  ‘Here we are.’

  The apartment block was fantastically central, practically on the water. It was built in an old warehouse and the developer had cleverly kept a lot of the old salt-weathered brickwork and supporting steel girders with their large dome-headed rivets, all painted black. The industrial feel, however, was somehow softened when paired with high-spec lighting and soft woods. Every gap in the building that wasn’t original had been filled with smoked glass and shiny chrome. It was modern, fresh, very clean and could not have been more different to the house they had both grown up in. Victoria wondered if Sarah ever missed the honey-coloured carpet on the half landing where the sun came in through the ornate window and pooled shapes and colours on the floor.

  Sarah ran up the open-tread stairs and stopped at a wooden door with a small porthole window on the upper floor.

  ‘This is us!’

  Before Jens appeared, a front door on the other side of the corridor opened and out walked a young man, a very tall young man. He was very blonde and smiley – not a lopsided smile, but an open one that invited her to smile back.

  ‘Hallo, Sarah! Litt kaldt i dag.’

  ‘Yes, too cold. This is Victoria, my . . . erm . . . my . . .’

  ‘I am staying for the weekend,’ she interjected, raising her hand in greeting, unable to stand the flustered nature of Sarah’s response, which left them all feeling a little awkward.

  ‘Oh cool! Well, have a good time – see you around. Ha det.’

  ‘Yep, bye, Vidar!’

  No sooner had they watched Vidar run down the stairs than the door opened and a tall man wearing jeans, a white shirt and with stockinged feet stood in front of her. He had short, fair hair and a wide smile, which showed off his large, neat teeth. He shook his head and briefly placed his hand over his mouth, his eyes misted with emotion. This, she had not expected. Her concerns over any potential lack of welcome disappeared.

  ‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ He exhaled deeply. ‘I’m Jens, and I don’t need to ask who you are! I could have picked you out in any crowd!’ he managed eventually, with laughter in his voice. He did something then that neither she nor Sarah had so far been able to do when he stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. ‘Oh my goodness, Victoria.’ She was glad he got her name right. He set her free and stood back to stare at her, which was more than a little disconcerting. ‘It is incredible and wonderful just how much you look like Sarah! You must be able to see it?’ he asked with kindly enthusiasm.

  ‘A little bit, I guess.’ She glanced at Sarah and then back at him.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Again the hand over the mouth. ‘You even have the same facial expressions!’ He clapped. ‘Wonderful, just wonderful! Come on, let’s go sit somewhere comfortable and you can tell me all about it.’

  ‘Tell you all about what?’ She was a little confused.

  ‘Your life! Your whole life! Everything!’

  She followed the man through to the open-plan lounge/dining area, which was tastefully modern with the addition of tapestry cushions and faux fur rugs to soften all the hard edges. It was different to Rosebank in every possible way. It was also lovely and warm, homely, and not only because of the furnishings but because Jens made it feel that way. It seemed so neat and perfect; she wondered how a girl like her, a stranger to all intents and purposes, would fit without being intrusive.

  ‘My whole life?’ She drew breath. ‘It might take a while.’

  ‘Skal jeg få litt vin,’ Sarah breathed.

  Jens nodded at his wife. Victoria wondered what had been said and her eyebrows rose involuntarily.

  ‘Sorry, we were just asking about wine,’ he explained.

  It was her turn to nod.

  ‘Now.’ Jens beamed at her and folded his tall frame into a chair, removing the cushion and gripping it to his chest. ‘It doesn’t matter how long it takes, we have all the time in the world.’

  ‘And I thought I was only here for the weekend.’

  ‘Ah! You might never want to leave.’ He beamed.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’ She thought of how, over the last eighteen years, she would have loved to receive an invite like this.

  ‘I have read letters that Sarah wrote to your erm . . . bestemor – what’s the word in English?’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Grandmother! And oh! Wow! I feel so close to you, even though I have never met you because I kn
ow what you went through at the very beginning. Your mother is a remarkable person. Your grandmother too.’ He looked over at Sarah, his eyes drinking her in, as if they were still a new couple. She felt a little embarrassed, unused to this. She barely remembered interactions between Prim and Grandpa, and with her gran and Gerald things had always seemed quite proper.

  ‘Well, you are a few steps ahead of me.’ She meant that she had yet to read all of the letters, but it sounded very much like she was yet to find something remarkable about Sarah. She looked over to the kitchen island, where Sarah, with both hands on the countertop, looked a little aghast. Victoria felt her stomach sink. This trip was going to be a little harder than any of them might have thought.

  TWELVE

  There was a brief moment when Victoria opened her eyes that she didn’t know where she was, but the sound of Jens and Sarah chatting in the kitchen anchored her to the place and time. Pulling the fat duvet up to her chin in the small, white-walled bedroom which, judging by the desk and bookshelves, doubled as a study, she lay still, taking in the sounds that, to most, would have seemed quite unremarkable, annoying even if they had woken you from the deepest sleep, but for Victoria they were like music, a composition just for her. She listened to Sarah open and close cupboard doors, click switches, clatter crockery, and the metallic rattle of items ferreted from the dishwasher. She heard her hum and laugh softly, cough twice and chat in both English and Norwegian to her love. These were the sounds that countless people woke to every day of their lives, the sound of family, but for her it was the first time she had slept under the same roof as her mother, the first time she had lain in a bed with her mother on the other side of the door. It was an experience that was both mournful and joyous. Her thoughts flew to Prim, who would call up the stairs:

  ‘Morning, sweetie! Breakfast is ready . . .’

  ‘Your bus leaves in twenty!’

  ‘Don’t forget your PE kit!’

  ‘Chop chop, Victoria, you are going to be late!’